


An Exception to the Rule

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Brothers, Dick is unconscious the whole time and yet there is still cuddling, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Damian should not care.Damian did care.





	An Exception to the Rule

**Author's Note:**

> Set early during Dick's time as Batman

Damian did not know what to do. Physically, Pennyworth had told him what to do. He was supposed to wait. To putter around the manor and do nothing useful when there was something- anything he could be attempting to do to help Grayson. Damian refused to accept waiting was the proper course of action at this stage. 

He could not even blame himself. It was not Damian’s fault Batman had allowed himself to be snared by Ivy. Nor his fault that her plant toxins had sparked pain and a fever and tricked his mind into seeing phantom versions of Ivy, her plants, and even Damian himself. If anything, Damian was the only reason Grayson had made it back to the manor alive. Pennyworth had told him as much after the fear of death or permanent injury had passed and an antidote had been administered. He should be absolved of the need to do anything. Grayson should recover with time. 

Only, Damian did not want to simply wait. He might not feel obligated to help, but he did feel something. Something born of the respect and camaraderie between he and his Batman. Or perhaps it sprung from Grayson’s own constant care for him when it was needed. Care Damian was still trying to get used to, trying to learn to accept for himself. 

Maybe it was simply the pained groans coming from the medical cot. The hot wet sheen of sweat that coated his face no matter how many times Pennyworth dabbed it dry. The scrunched pain in Grayson’s eyebrows, and eyelids, pressed closed against the too bright dimness in the cave. 

Grayson’s hand flew out, gripping the metal railing of the cot, his knuckles white, the veins popping. His breath hissed, pained whistles that proved the poison was still running through his veins, that the antidote was working too slowly to give him relief. 

“There must be something.” Damian said, unable to stop himself. “Can we not administer another dose of the antidote?” 

Pennyworth looked up from where he was wringing cool water from a white cloth. Water dripped off it making tiny crystal plinks in the water, too clean a noise for the situation. 

“Another dose wouldn’t help. It takes time to work its way through his system, Master Damian. We must be patient.” 

Damian tapped his boot on the ground, but couldn’t find words to argue. Pennyworth was right, they did need to be patient. However, truth did not erase the itching in Damian’s feet or the rush in his mind to  _ do something _ . He could not stand here completely able while his Batman lay in pain.

“You might as well go shower.” He said, then gave Damian a gentle smile before placing the cloth on Grayson’s forehead, “Master Dick would probably like to see you clean when he begins to feel better.” 

It was not perfect, and would not give immediate relief to the man on the cot, but it was a task Damian could accomplish. It was one he should have thought of sooner. Of course Grayson would wish to see him when he returned to his senses. He had the bad habit of worrying about Damian first, and himself second. His thoughts would be aimed at knowing Damian had escaped the fight unscathed. Which, beyond a thorn managing to tear its way through his suit and slice his arm during the escape, he was. 

He fingered the bandage Pennyworth had put over the stitched wound. With the depth and length it was likely to scar, but that seemed more than a fair price for making sure Grayson made it home. 

“Try to keep that dry.” Pennyworth instructed as Damian moved to the showers, “I’d rather not rebind it when you return.” 

Damian waved his acknowledgement and hurried his steps to the showers. He flicked the water on with an impatient hand and began undressing. Peeling off his uniform felt like removing the last shred of his ability to help. To do. He wondered if this was how Father had felt when Grayson or one of his other Robins had been hurt. Grayson told him how Father would often return to patrol almost as soon as he was sure he could, not because he did not want to be there with his partner, but because he had the need to do anything but wait. The need to feel useful, and like he was helping.

He didn’t wait for the water to heat up so he could let the warmth beat out the exhaustion resting over his back and shoulders, instead he rushed through everything. He took just enough time to make sure he was scrubbed and his hair was clean before turning it off, the water only just starting to warm. 

He replaced the uniform with soft sweats, and didn’t bother to comb out his hair. Pennyworth would not care, and Grayson would not be able to comprehend the lack of tidyness to Damian’s appearance. Besides, it was seconds he could spend with Grayson. If he could not do anything to physically help, he could at least be there for his if Grayson were to come to his senses soon.

Damian paced the cave. He attempted to work on a report of the night’s events, and then when his mind would not hold the words needed he moved to the car. The stabilizers needed tweaking and Damian had been meaning to get to them for a while. But even there, he found himself fumbling and unfocused. He dropped a wrench on his hand and swore, tossing the thing to the side before standing in a huff. 

Something coiled inside him. It was cold and hot like iron had replaced his insides, burning as it twisted and turned inside, and then freezing with a throbbing sharp pain. His head was full of a hundred ways he could have prevented Grayson’s being hurt, and a hundred ways it would have happened anyway. 

_ ‘I shouldn’t even care.’ _ He thought fiercely. This was why Mother had taught him emotion was weakness. Connection with another was only something to drag you down. Grayson was not even gravely injured and Damian had been reduced to someone unable to focus, but for the continued glances at his partner. This was the pathetic state of being Mother so despised. This wraithlike feeling of dependency and worry. 

Damian should not care. 

Damian did care. 

He paced the cave with nothing better to hold him in place. When had he begun to? He did not belong here. Try and desire as much as he wanted, Damian did not. Father was the piece Damian was supposed to fit in with. He was to be the glue that kept Damian in Gotham. With Father gone Damian had been left adrift, a square trying to fit into a circle. A circle of everyone his father had chosen to build his family with. 

Yet Damian was here. He wore the colors Father’s partners had always worn, and Grayson had given them to him. When Damian had felt adrift and lost, Grayson had pulled him in and held him in place. Worst of all he had been exasperatingly good to Damian. This was no pity acceptance. No reluctant offering of shelter. Richard Grayson had all but told Damian he belonged. He had taken him in for better or for worse with a smile on his face and constant offerings of comfort even when they were unrequested. 

It was no wonder he had gone soft. 

Damian’s roving took him closer to the man who called him brother, who Damian called the same, but only in his head, and wished again for something to do. He watched Grayson’s chest rise and fall as if it were a car on bumpy roads, hitching erradictly as he fought off the poison in his system. At least he’d closed his eyes, and Damian hoped he’d fallen asleep. 

“If I might make a suggestion.” 

Damian started at the words, jumping back from Grayson’s bed and into Pennyworth’s arms. He was steadied, but just as soon turned to face the man. 

“I apologize, I did not hear you approach.” Damian told him, willing his heart to stop beating so quickly, and chiding himself for being caught by surprise in the first place. What if it had been an intruder and Damian had allowed Grayson further injury? All the more reason for him to get his emotions under control, to reign in this sudden  _ caring _ .  

“That’s quite alright.” Pennyworth said, a hint of humor in his voice. “I only wished to suggest a way for you to assist Master Dick.” 

Damian’s heart jumped back into a rush of movement, but he squelched it, forcing his breathing to be even, and holding back the modocrum of excitement that wanted to ease its way into his veins. What more could Pennyworth have for him to do to help, especially after telling Damian they could only wait? He prayed the man’s words were something other than a request for Damian to attempt to sleep. It was something he would not-and could not-do.

“What did you have in mind?” 

“Your father found out early on in his time with Master Dick that his mental and general health improves greatly with physical contact.” Pennyworth explained. 

Damian frowned, his mind turning over the information. Grayson was a very affectionate person, and prone to bouts of need for physical reassurance. He often told Damian that there was nothing like a hug to heal a person, though that was mostly in defense of Grayson hugging Damian. It was likely that the opposite could be true, and even more effective than it was on Damian. Not that he was admitting Grayson’s attempts helped him at all. He was simply allowing that the technique could be useful, and could even help his brother. 

He nodded, “So you are saying that Grayson’s state of well being is in proportion to the amount of physical comfort he receives?” 

Pennworth considered that, “"Well yes. I believe so."

“Thank you, Pennyworth. I will take over his care then.” 

That was all the confirmation Damian needed. He turned from the man, and started back towards the cot Grayson was on. He could have waited for Pennyworth to leave him in Damian’s care, or to busy himself somewhere else, but it did not matter. He would eventually see Damian’s decision for himself, and there was no reason it shouldn’t happen now instead of later. 

Damian examined the cot to ensure he would actually fit, then climbed onto it, making sure he did not sit on Grayson in any way, and made himself comfortable sitting beside his brother. He fit snugly, and would have fit better if he’d laid beside the man, but he was not going to subject himself to cuddling until he had determined physical comfort to be something actually beneficial to Grayson, and not a scheme concocted by Pennyworth to give him something to do. 

He took his brother’s hand in his and pulled his knees a bit closer to himself to wait, his eyes on Grayson’s face, still scrunched in pain. 

“It will be alright.” he said, squeezing the hand in his own. “The antidote is working, and you will feel better soon.” 

He didn’t know what prompted the words, Grayson could not hear them. It simply felt right. Grayson and Pennyworth often did it for him when he was injured. Those words had been the anchor he held onto to keep his mind from falling into the pain more than once, and Damian hoped somehow that his own would penetrate the toxins in Grayson and get through with some comfort. 

Damian noted that Grayson’s breathing had improved, at least marginally, with his arrival. Taking into account the fact that it had not changed before he’d climbed on the bed, even with the antidote, Damian decided that Pennyworth’s theory was sound.

A presence, Pennyworth’s, made himself known by the bed, shoes sounding in the cave from a purposeful scuff probably intended to make sure Damian did not start again at his arrival. Damian turned his head, and gave him a small smile of victory. 

“Grayson’s breathing has already begun to improve.”

“That is excellent.” Pennyworth said, “Are you planning to stay with him until he awakens?” 

“Yes.” Damian answered, “I will keep an eye on him, so you can get some rest. It is late. And you should have had the opportunity to go to sleep hours ago.” 

Damian watched as Pennyworth almost spoke, then caught himself and shook his head ever so slightly, “If you insist.” he allowed, “Shall I grab you a book before I retire so you have something to keep your attention while you wait?” 

“That would be appreciated, thank you.” Damian said, he hadn’t thought of entertainment before he’d climbed up. All he had wanted was to give his brother some form of relief. Now that he was here, and Grayson seemed to be benefiting from his presence Damian did not want to move.

When Pennyworth returned with the book he wished Damian a good night, and made him promise to alert him if anything changed for the worse, then left. It was a long time before Damian pulled his eyes away from his brother’s face and turned his attention to the book. He allowed a few hours to pass alternatively reading and checking on Grayson, one hand still in his own as the book rested on his lap. Grayson’s progress was slow, and the idea of laying beside him, for it’s full helping effect, grew in Damian’s mind until he dog-eared the book, and set it where it wouldn’t fall off the cot. 

He eased himself under the light blanket covering Grayson, and snuggled into his side. He had to stop himself from flinching, as Grayson unconsciously looped an arm around him, and shifted to pull him closer. Damian realized only after all the movement had stopped that his position was a terrible one to attempt to read in. That was fine, he didn’t need the distraction. He could sit for hours atop a building for a stakeout, keeping an eye on Grayson while tucked against him would be easy. 

He found himself pressing his face into his brother’s chest, listening as his heart beat strongly and steadily, and feeling the now even breaths move Grayson's chest up and down. Despite the circumstances, it was the most relaxing position Damian had ever found himself in. And still, his mother’s voice was in his ear telling him how contact with another person strengthened your bond with them. That Damian should avoid touch as often as possible. Connection with another was weakness. 

And hadn’t he seen that tonight? Hadn’t his worry for Grayson distracted him from hearing Pennyworth or getting work done? Only, the mere thought of trying to physically distance himself from Grayson, to build his walls back up hurt. It left Damian with an empty, lonely feeling like he’d had when Mother had left him atop a mountain and told him to find his way home. A hopeless dread that he could not make it alone. 

Perhaps Mother was wrong. Maybe, in this one singular instance it was okay for him to find a connection. Damian pressed his face closer to Grayson’s chest. He let his arms wrap around his brother, and heard a happy sigh above him. Yes, perhaps it was Grayson who was in the right. 


End file.
